His breath was shallow, his eyes darkened further, and the look he gave me sent shivers all over my skin. I glanced at his lips.
"I want to kiss you." I whispered.
He closed his eyes and I closed the distance between our mouths.
His lips were soft, gentle, and the first touch of our lips together was tender. I moved one hand into his hair, draped the other over his shoulder. I pushed my chest against his, and his hands caught my hips and pulled them tight to him. The feeling of our hips fitting together was exquisite. My pussy was tingling. Jolts of pleasure rushed though me when his pants rubbed over my clit. Our tender kisses morphed into hungry, insatiable kisses. I felt as though he could devour me, as though I could consume him with the passion between us. My fingers tightened in his hair and he let out a soft gasp. I kissed down his jawline to his ear, a perfectly curved conch shell. I bit the lobe gently, and felt a growl rumble through his chest. I kissed my way back to his lips. He wound his hand through my hair and pressed the other into my lower back. When he pulled my hips into his, rough and forceful, I threw my head back and moaned. He took the opportunity to bite my neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to convey the strength and animal desire in him. I stood straight, but he had to hunch slightly to reach my mouth with his and keep our hips aligned. This position made him seem a beast, curled over some helpless prey. The idea excited me, but I was as much beast as he.
I pulled him down to the ground, keeping our mouths together. I lay back on the soft carpet, and he crawled onto me. He kept one hand on the floor for balance, but the other roved over my body, tracing my curves and lines. Everywhere he touched burned, each bit of my skin his fingertips brushed felt branded. I arched my back and let out an involuntary cry.
I needed to be on top, so I quickly flipped him onto his back. He looked surprised at the change, but closed his wide eyes when I began kissing his neck. I pulled his shirt up and ran my hands over his tight belly. He wasn't heavily muscled there like he was on his back and shoulders, but he was still trim and fit and utterly delectable. I pulled his shirt up more, revealing a solid chest with a light coat of hair. His nipples were small and pink. I let his shirt down and I sat up, my crotch pressed against something hard and taut in his pants. He slid his hands up slowly from my knees to my hips. His thumbs were tantalizingly close to my clit. I pulled my shirt up and off, my curls bouncing back into place once it was over my head. I wanted him to be as turned on as I was, and I knew I had a nice body. My breasts were small, but soft, and my body was lean. He ran his fingers over my stomach, admiring me.
When he looked in my eyes, though, I saw the boy he used to be, playing bari sax in band or studying in the library. The heat of passion fell away from me. I leaned down and kissed him, chastely, and I saw the look on his face shift, as well. He remembered me as his friend, as I had him. I stood, grabbed my shirt, and left the room. When I glanced back before closing the door, I saw a look of bewilderment on his face that echoed my own feelings. What had we gotten ourselves into?
